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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25362013">End of the Road</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Prison Break</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Gen, Kind of Happy ending?, More like hopeful, One Shot, Tragedy, What-If, Why Did I Write This?</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:41:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,167</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25362013</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What if the Riot, the Drill and the Devil had gone differently? What if the sniper hadn't missed?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The searing pain through his shoulder is telling enough, even before he sees the way his t-shirt has started to soak through. At first, he's a little relieved... Shoulder wounds aren't usually serious, right?</p><p>But as he staggers through the hallways, already feeling a little lightheaded, he realizes that no matter how hard he's pressing, the blood keeps gushing through his fingers.</p><p>Linc can help, he thinks dazedly. Wait, no, the CO, T-Bag...</p><p>He stumbles into Gen Pop, and is immediately faced with absolute chaos. Forgetting to keep pressure for a moment, he stares in complete horror at the carnage he's unleashed.</p><p>And then he hears a soft, panicky, 'Michael' and Linc is in front of him.</p><p>"Son of a bitch," he says. "Michael, is that..?"</p><p>"Got shot," he admits. "Sniper."</p><p>Lincoln curses under his breath, and then puts one of Michael's arms around his shoulders. "Come on, let's get you up."</p><p>It takes only a few seconds, with Lincoln supporting nearly his entire weight, but the world is swimming in and out by the time he finally sinks down on his bunk. The CO is still there, staring wide-eyed.</p><p>For some reason, the panic on the guard's face is what finally gets it through his brain. He's hurt too many people with this, he realizes. Too many, not to face some consequences of his own.</p><p>"Linc," he says, voice barely a whisper. "I'm so sorry."</p><p>"What the hell are you..." Lincoln's jaw tightens as their eyes meet. "No. No, don't even... you'll be fine, Mike."</p><p>Michael shakes his head, wincing as Lincoln's hands on his shoulder press down harder. He's too exhausted to give a full explanation. "Ask Abruzzi."</p><p>Lincoln swings his head around, and the mob boss is looking stoically resigned. "What?"</p><p>"Big artery, that," Abruzzi says, simply. "Too big."</p><p>"No." Lincoln shakes his head. "That can't be right. It can't be right."</p><p>T-Bag, hovering in the doorway, remarks casually, "Well, isn't this a bit... disappointing."</p><p>Lincoln's head shoots up to glare at him, but surprisingly, Abruzzi gets there first. He lifts the rapist clean off his feet and throws him over the railing. The mob leader stands there for a moment, then runs a hand through his hair and comes back to kneel in front of Michael.</p><p>"Listen, I'm sorry," he begins, "But you have to give me Fibonacci. Now."</p><p>Not exactly the ideal way to spend one's last minutes, Michael thinks, and feels the strange urge to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "What are you gonna do, kill me?"</p><p>Lincoln makes a low, choked sound of pure agony. Abruzzi doesn't flinch, but he does close his eyes, as if bracing himself.</p><p>"Please," he says at last. "You have to. Falzone's got my kids."</p><p>Michael sighs. It's not like the trap has any more use for him, anyway. "Canada," he says, and breathes out the exact address. Abruzzi nods.</p><p>"Thank you," he says. He gets up to leave, pauses at the doorway, looks back at him.</p><p>"Seems like such a shame."</p><p>And a compliment from John Abruzzi, of all people, makes him want to laugh again. He settles for a nod, which the mob boss returns, and then he's gone.</p><p>Lincoln is still trying to staunch the blood flow, his sleeves covered in red.</p><p>"Where's the doc?" he says. "If I can get her..."</p><p>"They'll gun you down the second you try to go out," Michael breathes.</p><p>"I don't care."</p><p>"I do. LJ does."</p><p>Lincoln makes a frustrated noise.</p><p>"How did this happen, Michael? How'd you get near the snipers?"</p><p>"Doesn't matter now." At least she's safe - he hasn't dragged her down with him. Closing his eyes for a moment, Michael focuses on the pain Lincoln's causing, however well-meaning, and tries to keep himself awake long enough to...</p><p>"Sucre."</p><p>His cellmate is gripping his cross and whispering under his breath. When his gaze meets Michael's, his eyes are filled with tears.</p><p>"Papi, you can't do this," he says.</p><p>"Listen," Michael tells him forcefully. "We're through the wall, okay? You've got to try. You want to get married, right? You and Linc... you have to get through."</p><p>"We can't do this without you, Mike," Lincoln cuts in. "I'll die, you got that? So fight, dammit!"</p><p>He's probably right, much as Michael hates to admit it. But he can't accept that. "Please, just try," he whispers, and Lincoln's face crumples.</p><p>"Michael, don't do this."</p><p>"Sorry," he murmurs. His eyelids are drooping.</p><p>"Love you."</p><p>Lincoln inhales sharply, and then gathers him in a crushing embrace.</p><p>"Mike, please. Please."</p><p>His brother's arms around Michael are the last thing he feels. Far as he's concerned, it could have been a lot worse.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two hours later, Sara sits in the back of an SUV, glancing through the list of the dead she's been given.</p><p>There. Fifth from the top.</p><p>Her breath catches, shudders in her chest. "Are you... Are you sure?" she says. "Of all these names?"</p><p>"Yeah." The man looks sympathetic. "You probably knew some of them pretty well, huh?"</p><p>She didn't. Not him. Not really.</p><p>"How'd he die?" she asks.</p><p>"Sorry?"</p><p>"This one." She can't bring herself to say his name.</p><p>"One of the guys the snipers got, I think," he says, and any dim, twisted hope that she hadn't been the reason for his death is snuffed out like a wick. "If it's any consolation, the snipers only picked out the real threats, the ones trying to get out."</p><p>"He wasn't a threat," Sara says immediately, because she can't stand anyone thinking that of him. "He was at the door to get me out. Which he did." She's choking up, so she clears her throat.</p><p>The man looks stricken. "Oh," he says. "I'll... I'll give you a moment."</p><p>"Thank you."</p><hr/><p>Lincoln sits in his cell, not really registering the hours passing by. He's changed his clothes, but he knows he can't wash this off. Ever.</p><p>The door opens, and the doctor steps through. She looks as lifeless as he feels, brown orbs dull, the makeup only somewhat masking the bags under her eyes.</p><p>"Lincoln," she begins. "I don't know what to say."</p><p>"Yeah," he says. "Me neither."</p><p>They sit in silence for a moment.</p><p>"He died in my arms, you know."</p><p>Her eyes snap up, wide. "How...?"</p><p>"He made it back, to his cell. I went there looking for him."</p><p>"He died fighting," she muses.</p><p>"I guess," Lincoln mutters. As far as he's concerned, Michael hadn't fought nearly hard enough.</p><p>"Hey, so... uh, listen, I owe you the truth. Your brother... well, the reason he was..."</p><p>Lincoln's only half-listening, because he knows what she'll say. Sucre's told him where Michael had gone, and this is the only explanation for how he got in the sniper's cross-hairs. Lincoln's not completely stupid, after all.</p><p>"He'd fight for everyone else," he says, absently. "He kept trying to save me, you know. Believed me, believed I was innocent, when nobody else did. The beating, the toes... It's like he didn't even care what happened to him long as I was... you know?"</p><p>The doctor swallows what she was saying. "He got those trying to protect you?"</p><p>You don't know the half of it, Lincoln thinks. "Yeah."</p><p>There's a little spark in her eyes now, suddenly. "I'll come see you tomorrow," she says.</p><hr/><p>"I don't think so, Sara."</p><p>"The man died to save me, Dad! This is the one chance you and I have of repaying him. I'm not asking for a free pass. Make it 100 years, or something. Just... don't let them execute him."</p><p>Frank Tancredi exhales, heavily. "Sara..."</p><p>"Please."</p><p>"I can't."</p><p>"Fine." She grips the phone tightly. "Then I'll go on public and tell them exactly what happened at the riot. I'll tell them how your entire band wasn't enough, and it took an inmate to save my life - who your people shot and killed when he was trying to get me out. I'll tell them exactly how many people died in there while you people stood safely outside and shot at inmates indiscriminately."</p><p>He's silent for a moment. "You'll lose your job."</p><p>"I don't care," she says coldly. "I'm giving you until tomorrow."</p><hr/><p>When Henry hears the news, he's in his office, staying overnight to oversee the repairing. He smiles wanly and tells Judy, who's on the phone, that he'll be right back, that there's something he has to do.</p><p>He glances at the Taj model on his way out, wonders if there was anything between Michael Scofield and the governor's daughter. Then again, he thinks of the person he's going to see, and reminds himself there are many different kinds of love.</p><hr/><p>Burrows stares at him blankly for a moment. Then he smiles, sadly.</p><p>"Huh," he says. "Figures."</p><p>"I'm sorry, son," Henry tells him, then feels a little absurd. After all, he has just given the man good news. Life without parole can't sound so bad to a person due to be executed in a month.</p><p>But Lincoln understands. "Yeah," is all he says.</p><hr/><p>Brad Bellick is the one who escorts Lincoln to Gen Pop. The big guy keeps his head low, and for once Brad doesn’t push it. He knows what the man’s thinking about, and he doesn't really know what to feel about all this.</p><p>When he heard, his first reaction was shock. The son of a bitch always acted invincible, after all. Lost two toes without screaming once. Didn't say a word when he stomped on said toe stumps, either.</p><p>Now, to be absolutely honest, Brad feels blank, and a little frustrated, like something valuable has been wasted. He's extra snappy to everyone around him these days, tormenting inmates many times for no reason, and he's annoyed when most of them crumble easily, unlike a certain someone he won't mention.</p><p>A waste, definitely, he decides.</p><p>At least there's still Burrows.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p>Four months and sixteen days later, a live feed of an alive Terrence Steadman, recorded by Nick Savrinn, go out to the media. Four months and twenty-three days later, Lincoln Burrows steps out of Fox River as a free man.</p><p>Veronica and LJ are both there to welcome him. He embraces them, buries his face in LJ's hair, and takes in what feels like his first breath in nearly five months.</p><p>"I love you," he says to them both, and remembers the person he hadn't said it to.</p>
<hr/><p>Sara Tancredi smiles politely at the man sitting in front of her. He returns it, bright hazel eyes sparkling. He's very handsome, she thinks. And an inch shorter than her. And muscular. And so fair he can probably get sunburn in overcast days.</p><p>The one she really wants, she can't have. So, she keeps choosing the opposite, hoping one of them will work out.</p><p>Maybe this one will, she thinks, resolutely.</p>
<hr/><p>When Sucre gets out of prison, Maricruz is married to Hector. He makes her promise she won't keep his daughter from him, no matter what his cousin says. This way, he at least gets to see them both twice a week.</p><p>It takes exactly two months for her to divorce Hector and get back together with him. The marriage was one of convenience, after all, and Hector's lies are no longer enough now that she has a chance to see and remember the kind of man Fernando Sucre really is.</p><p>They tie the knot in a very small ceremony, then move out of the city to settle in a quiet place. Sucre gets a job at construction, and it's not lavish, but it's enough. They can finally start a proper family, he and his wife and their sweet little child.</p>
<hr/><p>No one asks why there isn't a best man at the Burrows-Donovan wedding. Eyebrows go up, however, when they notice that the chair to Lincoln's left is empty save for a little origami crane.</p><p>No one's brave enough to ask, and neither the bride nor the groom say a word.</p>
<hr/><p>"Michael James Tancredi, you go and wash up right now!"</p><p>Her boy pouts, pushes his chair back, and trots off to the bathroom.</p><p>She's never really given her husband a good reason for that name. He knows it was someone she knew, someone who died. She hasn't said more, and he has never asked. She likes this about him - he's never asked her to share everything. They both have their personal baggage, and there's no obligation to share, but either would gladly lend an ear if the other wants to vent. It's not perfect, but it's comfortable, and she knows she's lucky to have that.</p>
<hr/><p>Henry Pope has kept the Taj model exactly as before, on the very same table. For him, it now symbolizes something else. Every time he comes in, he sees it, and before he leaves, he sees it, and it reminds him of blue steely eyes and little smiles and unwavering optimism and how things always have a way of working out, if you just have a little faith.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For personal reasons, I don't want this story associated with my account, so, I'm orphaning it. That said, I think I'll be monitoring it, so I'd like it if you left a comment!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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